Hell doesn't have pretty birds or forests
by Sebu
Summary: "Next please" this man, said in a calm, monotone voice, with a burning cigarette in his hand. He stepped forward, his gun on his shoulder, looking at his feet trying to be as humble as he could, but as he stepped forward and stood still, he raised his head, noticing all the doors around him. Without thinking he said one simple phrase out of impulse: "What the frick is all this?"


**A/N: It's been years since I've written a story, so please consider that when judging my writing style. I've obviously gotten rustier, than when I was at my peak. Aside from that, please read and review, and enjoy!**

October 1965, Quảng Nam Province, Vietnam

It was a beautiful day in the skies over Vietnam. A lone helicopter flew over the seemingly endless jungles of Vietnam where danger and potential death awaited anyone who dared to set foot in there. All the more reason for Captain Larry A. Thorne and his unit of U.S Army soldiers to have a helicopter to transport them rather than go along a river on a raft, when at any given time there could be an ambush. Besides, napping while listening to the sound of the humming engine and the helicopter rotors going around was more comfy than sitting on a raft, constantly on the edge due to the risk of Viet Cong ambushing them.

It was fairly quiet, besides the constant sound that the helicopter made, it was so quiet that the Captain and his men could get some shut eye on the way back to base. As hours passed, the sun went down, and night took over the day. Though it was dark, there seemed to be nothing going wrong that day. Until...

"SHIT, WE'RE UNDER FIRE!" the pilot shouted in surprise as machine guns started firing and an RPG-7 rocket just missed them by a few meters. This awaken Captain Thorne and his unit from their cozy nap into battle-readiness as they grabbed their rifles and fired back as best could aboard a helicopter trying not to get hit by the rockets. "Commie bastar!" one of the American soldiers aboard the helicopter yelled in a quite sharp manner, as one would go from relaxation to adrenaline-induced combat-state.

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY, WE'RE UNDER FIRE AT QU…" the pilot was shot dead, and the helicopter was going down. Captain Thorne, being the warrior he was, couldn't believe his fate. After 18 years of total service in his life, this was to be his fate; a helicopter crash. He closed his eyes, his service rifle in one hand and a handle from the helicopter to keep him inside it in his other hand, and he prayed:

" _Dear God, if you're there, help us sinners…"_ He did not have much time to finish his prayer when the helicopter was coming close to crashing down. He kept his eyes tightly closed and awaited his doom...

Until he realized, eyes still closed, that everything had calmed down. He was no longer spinning inside the crashing helicopter, in fact, he was just standing still, no spinning, no falling down or flying, just standing in attention. He opened his eyes just to see pure blackness. " _I guess this…. is the underworld, so that means I'm dead. At least Hell isn't as hot as the priest had said" he thought to himself._ On a second look, he realized himself still wearing his green vest and his helmet, with his rifle still in his hands. He wondered how he was allowed to carry guns to Hell with him. On the second thought, he was baptized as a Lutheran Christian, who believe salvation is earned from a man's faith and God's mercy, and the fact that he had said a short and quiet prayer before his death might mean that he's possibly going to Heaven.

While considering all the things he had done, and amount of faith he may or may not have had over the years, he heard voices coming from behind him, as if a man with a funny, yet incomprehensible language for his ears, was angrily shouting something constantly. He turned and saw some light in the shape of a doorway. It was right behind him, yet it didn't illuminate the corners of him eyes, or himself when he turned to look, but it was so bright that he could not see through it. He decided to take a leap of faith and stepped into the light, expecting to see Jesus and God, or at least Saint Peter at the gates of Heaven, ready to judge him for his sins.

He didn't to see a white, American-looking accountant sitting in a desk filled with papers while smoking a cigarette. Thorne could've killed for a smoke then, but he tried his best not to even think about that, since he's in the presence of a higher being than any other human. Or, at least that's what he thought. One thought did go through his mind:

" _Is this God?"_

"Next please" this man, "God" said in a calm, monotone voice, with a burning cigarette in his hand. Thorne stepped forward, his gun on his shoulder, looking at his feet trying to be as humble as he could, but as he stepped forward and stood still, he raised his head, noticing all the doors around him. Without thinking he said one simple phrase out of impulse:

"What the frick is all this?"

Instantly regretting his cursing in the presence of a white collar-bureaucrat "God", he lowered his face back to staring at his feet, but the god did not answer. Thorne looked back at him, and saw him writing something on paper with what seemed to be an expensive ink pen.

"Hey, listen fella…" he said in a nervous tone, though he wasn't really scared, he was uneasy, just like the fiercest of warriors would be at the presence of a deity. "I meant no disrespect to you or Jesus or to anyone…"

"God" just pushed his glassed closer to his eyes, wrote his signature to a piece of paper which included Thornes name, rank, and time and place of death. As he did this, Thorne could feel himself being sucked into a dark hole in a stone doorway. As he was being sucked into it, panic began going through his mind, as well as his body.

"Wait, wait, don't send me there, I- I…" He tried to plead mercy from this accountant looking "God" for not being sucked into oblivion. "O-our father in h-heaven… Hallowed b-be thy nameeee…" Trying to recite the Lord's Prayer as his final straw before Hell, but it didn't work. He was sucked into the portal, awaiting Hell with all of its horrors to torture him for the rest of eternity…

Seemed to be a quiet and peaceful forest at night. He was laying on his stomach, his face down on the ground, tired and gasping and breathing heavily from all the adrenaline and panic generated from the experience. Exhausted and tense, he laid a while on his stomach with his eyes closed and head facing left, and said phrase, and curse word to be exact, on his old native tongue, which he had no spoken in ages before now.

" _Perkele_ …" he muttered.

Feeling a bit more rested and better, he turned on his back and gazed upon the starry night sky, and noticed a little bird landed on his chest. He somberly smiled, for the cute little bird on his chest and for the fact he had avoided Hell. He wasn't an idiot, because Hell sure didn't have pretty birds and forests, and if the last place he went, the weird room with the doorways was real, and wasn't heaven or Hell, then that means he must be alive. With his gun still in his hand, he rose up and had a little laugh about his stupid dream and started looking around for the crashed helicopter, relieved of him dodging death, but still vigilant, because he was stranded in enemy territory, with no transport or way back to base.

As he looked around him, he couldn't see any remains of the helicopter, or him unit anywhere near. It was strange, since if the helicopter had crashed with Captain Thorne still inside it, then it must have been right next to him. Or maybe he had fallen off from it, but if so, then how did he manage to survive with little to no wounds or injuries. Now that he really started to think about his surroundings, they were not the same he had remembered Vietnam's jungles to be. They resembled more of a deep and great forest... just like at home…

He snapped out of his spontaneous memory, and started to truly wonder, if he really was dead, and this was just some punishment, a limbo maybe. He checked his guns magazine, and was relieved to see it still had some bullets left. He also noticed how he still had some of his ammo with him, though he noticed to be missing couple of magazines. In any case, he still had enough ammo to defend himself if needed. This sure wasn't 'Nam anymore, so who knows what will come.

 **And that's my one-shot Drifters story. Hope you liked it. In case if you're wondering who's Larry A. Thorne, and thinking that it's my OC, the answer is no. He is a real historical figure, a real captain in the U.S. Army, who apparently died in October 1965 in a helicopter crash during his service in Vietnam. If you google his name, Larry Thorne, you'll find his Wikipedia article, which will tell you a lot about him, like how he served in three different armies of three different countries and reached the rank of a captain in all of them.**

 **My inspiration for this story came from the American soldier seen in episode 1 right after Toyohisa is sucked into the world of "Drifters". Even though he (the unnamed American soldier) and Captain Thorne do not share a similar face, or an outlook, but still I thought it would be fun to write a story about the two of them as one person. This story is just to be the origin of said soldier, as it is at the time of writing this yet to be unveiled. At the moment, I don't have any plans to update this story. Sorry about that :/**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading, make sure to review and give me your thoughts about this story, and constructive criticism is always welcome, as long as it's really constructive.**

 **Until the next time!**


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